Ithaca Ithaca - Youth Vs Wisdom

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The dust gets heavier
I'm digging for treasure

One foot in the grave is
Worth two in the nether

Cut the rose at the hilt
Bludgeon all that we built

Your time’s running out
And the birds fly the field
The birds fly the field
They’ll get you in the end
But I'm not here to make friends

I'm not here to make friends
Dead leaves are cut to make room
I'm not here to make friends
The weak survived by the few